


Tell Me a Story?

by CigaretteDaydreamss



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood, Blood and Injury, Brother Feels, Canon Rewrite, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Dave | Technoblade and Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit are Siblings, Dead Wilbur Soot, Emotional Hurt, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, Major Character Injury, Manberg-Pogtopia War on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Manberg-Pogtopia War on Dream Team SMP Spoilers (Video Blogging RPF), Mild Hurt/Comfort, Not Canon Compliant, Older Sibling Wilbur Soot, Sad TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit Angst (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit centric, Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit are Siblings, kind of?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:21:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27870705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CigaretteDaydreamss/pseuds/CigaretteDaydreamss
Summary: Wilbur has always been there for Tommy. Whenever he was scared, Wilbur was there to distract him with a light-hearted tale and bring him hope through his storytelling.What happens when Tommy needs that comfort on November 16th?
Relationships: TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Comments: 13
Kudos: 234





	Tell Me a Story?

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my first fic but not my first piece of writing overall. Enjoy, maybe leave a kudos or constructive criticism in the comments?
> 
> TW for non-graphic blood and death.

“Tell me a story?”

  
Tommy was only 9 when they started their little tradition.

  
“Tommy, now isn’t-” Wilbur whispered, his grip tightening on Tommy’s arms. He felt himself being tugged closer to Wilbur’s chest.

  
“Please.” Tommy breathed, pulling Wilbur’s arms tighter around his shuddering form. He can feel Wilbur is trembling too.

  
They were tucked away in a crevice, trapped listening to the groans of the zombies and the clattering of skeleton’s bones as they shifted about. Philza had sent them to the nearest village to trade for some potatoes to farm. Techno had started running low, and they should’ve been back by sunset, after all.

  
But they got distracted, as young boys often did.

  
And now it was after dark; they were only halfway home when they realized there were too many mobs and they had far too little food to sprint all the way back without getting caught.

  
So they hid.

  
The stone was cold against Tommy’s sides; the walls pressing in on them made him feel claustrophobic. He was scared, and he needed a distraction. He asked Wilbur to tell him a story. Wilbur accepted his request.

  
“Well, uhm,” his hushed tone echoed faintly in the small cave. “Did I ever tell you about the time Phil caught me sneaking out to Niki’s?”

  
Tommy scoffed lightly, “No.”

  
So Wilbur told him. And before he knew it, the sun was up and the monsters burned; they were free to make their way home.

\----

They’re grown up now, and Tommy hasn’t needed comfort like that in years. He doesn’t get scared like that anymore. That’s for children. Tommy’s 16 now, after all. He didn’t think he’d ever need that again.

  
That is, until November 16th.

  
Tommy is running blindly. One hand shielding his eyes from the ashes raining from the orange sky, one hand still clutching his sword. His throat is raw from screaming, but he continues to anyway.

  
“WILBUR!” His own voice echoed back at him until the only sound was the popping of flames licking at his feet. His chest was on fire, both from breathing in the smoke and the excessive running. Tubbo was fine, Fundy was fine, he had found everyone else. Everyone but Wilbur.

  
“Wilbur!” Again, silence meets his desperate pleas.

  
And then he saw Philza. Phil, his dad, (what’s he doing here?) he’ll know where Wilbur is!

  
“P-Phil.” Tommy practically falls into Philza’s arms. “Thank Prime you’re okay! Fundy’s fine, and everyone else, I think. Have you seen Wilbur?” But Phil isn’t looking at him. His blank stare is locked on the ground behind Tommy. What was wrong with Phil? He seemed fine.

  
“Dad?” He whispers, so quietly it might as well have been a sigh. Tommy held Phil away from him, looking him up and down for any possible injuries. There was a blood splatter staining his stomach as if someone had flicked red paint on his robe.

  
“Phil,” Tommy says it more sternly this time as his eyes drift down to the dripping red diamond sword clattering to the ground beside Phil, it having slipped from his grasp. He gulps, his mouth suddenly dry.

  
His eyes track the dotted trail of blood away from the forgotten weapon, and he freezes. His stomach flips. The blood drains from his face, leaving him white as a sheet.  
There, lying lifeless not a foot away from Philza is Wilbur’s body. His friend’s body. His _brother’s_ body. Tommy chokes. It, for the first time in possibly hours, not being due to the heavy layer of smoke and fire coating the sky.

  
Dread burns down his spine and pools in his stomach, making bile rise in his throat. No, no no no. Tommy had seen him 20 minutes ago. He was celebrating Pogtopia’s victory, completely unscathed. He was fine. He was _alive_.

  
He doesn’t even feel his knees hitting the ground under him. His nerves were somehow both numb and on fire at the same time. It was overwhelming; He absently notes Wilbur’s blood soaking his soot-stained jeans.

  
Tommy watches himself reach out towards his brother’s body, his hand shaking violently. He watches himself nudge Wilbur as if he were simply sleeping, as if he would roll over and grumble at Tommy for waking him up. He watches himself stare blankly at the blood pooling from Wil’s gut, hoping, praying, it wasn’t what he thought it was.

  
It was an empty hope. Deep down, Tommy knew. He knew his brother was gone.

  
He barely registers Phil leaving, or the hours drifting by. The sky continues raining ash; the sounds of the dying flames singing a solemn song. He just curls up beside Wilbur, their backs pressed closely together. He’s briefly comforted, reminded of when Wilbur had held him tight in that cave the first time they got stuck out after dark without proper defence. He remembers what he asked Wil that day. Tommy asks again.

“Tell me a story?” Tommy’s voice breaks.

  
There’s silence.

  
“Please...”

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry.


End file.
